I Thought He Was My Angel
by HarvardBaby
Summary: Faith is only eighteen, but might as well be forty - she has already felt as much pain as somebody twice her age, all because of one man and his lies. A Faith oneshot.


Faith is only eighteen, but might as well be forty - she has already felt as much pain as somebody twice her age, all because of one man and his lies. A Faith oneshot.

This is set in season 3, right after the heartbreaking episode 'Enemies.'

Disclaimer: Don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Faith, Angel, Giles, Xander or Buffy.

Pairings: Faith/Angel, Buffy/Angel.

**I Thought He Was My Angel**

I perched in the quiet of my apartment, my back aching due to the hard wood in the leather couch beneath me. I gazed up at the off-white ceiling, unmoving. Numerous thoughts misted my brain, disabling what really mattered to seep through. All I could imagine was how soft his ancient lips felt against mine. The way he would growl deep within his throat when I would rough him around. How my stomach would knot up almost painfully when his skin would simply brush mine. I could only think of how when my hand touched his chest, I felt nothing drumming beneath it. The way his demon eyes blazed into mine, hotter than a flame erupted from the Hellmouth, after a moment of passion. Then, with a seizure to the heart, I remembered what the amber depths always read: _Buffy_.

I clenched my hands into purple fists until my night-painted nails left crescent-shaped holes in my palms that bled scarlet rivers of pain. "Buffy," I spat aloud. "_Buffy_."

She had been my friend, my best friend, almost family. But I could only avoid the truth and pretend to be okay for so long. Because the real story was, Buffy had stolen my spotlight.

I stood, my joints cracking, and I shuffled over to the window. Pushing aside the flimsy curtain, I absent-mindedly stared out into the busy street below. Cars, trucks, people whizzed by and to me, it all seemed so effortless, so simple.

It had been _me_ who had killed twice as many demons than her. It had been _me_ who had conjured up tactics and plans to use in our favour. It had been _me alone_ who had taught her to take her duties as a slayer to a different level; to kill without regret. But all those little ant-like people ten stories below me gave me no applause. They didn't ever thank me. I got no credit, because the one person in this world that I had begun to trust had deceived and stolen from me.

Buffy, my mind shrieked. I picked up a vase from beside me and threw it against the opposing wall, letting out scream. Buffy!

My next destination was my seemingly shrunken room on the other side of the apartment. From a wooden chest at the foot of my bed, I drew a gleaming sword. I turned it in my hands, admiring the slight sparkle it presented in the dim light. I ran a sharp edge along my arms, but did not let more blood reveal itself to me.

She had made me crazy; she had made me lose my mind. After the death of the Mayor's assistant, Allan, she had _haunted _me. Everywhere I was, she had showed up too, each time reminding me how wrong it had been to kill a man, how I had to confess. But I had said my own lies, and pretended to be strong, and blaming it entirely on her.

It was then; after I had told Giles that it was Buffy's fault that everyone else had began to pester me too. I should have known that Giles was too smart to believe me, and I wondered how long it had taken him to go and tell the rest of the Scooby Gang too.

Giles had also been the first, besides Buffy, to give me the 'it doesn't have to be this way, Faith' speech. And after I had fled from his office, Xander had appeared at my doorstep. The talk with Xander had torn me apart the most; so much that I had pinned him down on my bed and almost choked him to death. He would have died in my hands if Angel (him too!) hadn't shown up and knocked me out cold.

I had awoken to a polar-like stone floor and steel bracelets clenching my wrists. Moving had been almost impossible due to the shackles and the screeches of pain in my brain. But my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I had seen him there. He hadn't seen that I had woken, so I had taken the time to study him.

Angel had looked somewhat grim perching on the edge of the fireplace, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. His indestructible stone-like build had intoxicated me, and had I not been chained to the wall, I would have run to jump into his arms...

"Faith," his baritone voice had sounded, startling me. His body didn't move, nor did he open his eyes. "Faith," he said again and I had been aware of my heart melting to liquid as my name drifted off his lips. I had craved him to say it again. _And again_.

But the words that he had said next had re-frozen my heart back up to square one. Stubborn square one. Where killing wasn't bad...

"_I just want to talk to you." _Was how it had started once again.

I had replied with another sassy comeback.

"_You wanna go the long way around, hey, I can do that, I'm not getting any older."_

He had left after those words and I had let out a boulder-heavy sigh.

It had taken only a day for Angel to break me down into tears_. Tears_. I couldn't even remember the last time I had cried. His stories had touched me in a way that nothing and nobody ever had. The way he had described the darkness and the pain, how he had admitted that his soul-less self had not been the true him, but an Angel with an addiction...to murder. This all made me realize what I had really become. Angel explained to me that we were identical on the inside and because he had changed, I needed to change too. I had hope, and I knew I could do it.

It had greatly surprised me when Wesley and his council friends had burst through the mansion's doors, beating on Angel and had taken away a cuffed me.

If Wesley had not been such a jackass that night, Angel might have saved me. For those short minutes between Angel's stories and Angel's beating, I had been ready to fix the cuts and tend to the bruises, but, the peace that had formed with myself had shattered like dropped glass. A pissed off, frustrated me had promptly escaped from the back of Wesley truck and out onto the streets. Who needed a change? Not me.

Now, I raised my hands to my temples and collapsed on my bed, dropping the sword to the hardwood floor. I buried my face in my pillow, pushing it hard, making it almost incapable of breathing.

Buffy.

It was Buffy who got the brave gang of friends. It was her who had her back covered without a question; the Wicca, the two watchers, the werewolf and even two extras. What did I get? Nothing, nobody. She got the loving mother who even supported her with her slaying, while I had never had family at all. It was Buffy...who got the boyfriend. While all that I had in my life was one-night stands.

What was so amazing about her? Why had Angel chosen her? At least, I thought, I had the _memory _of him loving me...

I turned over onto my back, feeling the deadly pinch behind my eyes. _I will not cry again. Not over him._

It had felt so real and I cursed him for being such an amazing liar. He could have been an actor in his previous life. He had made me believe that all his heart and soul was for me, even if he had also made me believe that his soul was gone for good.

I couldn't stop remembering how satisfying it had been to hurt Buffy the way she had hurt me. So satisfying to see her squirm in her chains as my tongue met Angel's. The word 'joyful' had never crossed my mind until then. I was finally getting what I deserved.

But of course, I could never truly ever be happy.

They had admitted it together, had known the whole time, while I had really been the blind-sided one. Just like a fairytale couple, they had planned it out together. I wished they had chained me up and tortured me with the tools I had brought to use on Buffy, or maybe had just shot me in the head. I would have welcomed anything, any other type of pain but the pain Buffy and Angel had caused to my heart.

Maybe _this_ was what I deserved. A lonely life of heartbreak.

I now pushed off of my bed and made my way down the stairs and out into the night. I may have lost Angel, potential friends and maybe my mind...but there was always one thing...

A snarl erupted from behind me and reflexively, I turned, introducing his face to my boot, and staked him right on target. As the vampire turned to dust, I watched him drift away on the wind. This seemed to trigger something within me, because I began to sob.

I left myself fall to the ground, bringing up my knees to my chest and resting my forehead on them, hiding my face from the world. Rivers of salty emotion drained from my eyes and a strange noise sounded from my mouth. Why was I falling apart? Why was my _life_ falling apart? I was tired of being the bad guy, but it was too late to switch sides, and I couldn't leave; not now...

"Faith?" an achingly familiar voice chimed into my thoughts, light as wind.

I raised my head and looked around the street. "Angel?" I replied softly.

But the roads were empty and I was still alone.


End file.
